Fresh Hell
by Madam Callisto
Summary: Sometimes Sam was still dumb enough to let himself feel happy.


"What the hell is this supposed to be?" Sam asked, sniffing the greasy meat wrapped in tin foil his brother was trying to pass off as food.

"You're not supposed to look at it Sammy," Dean said through a mouthful of burger. "Just shut up, take a bite, and enjoy ."

Sam sighed and stared as Dean shoved himself face first into his meal. Sam grimaced. Sometimes, despite the number of times Dean had died, Sam still found himself wondering how his terrible diet had yet to kill him. Dean continued to ignore his brothers disapproving stare, and reached over the side of the hood of the Impala where they'd been sitting and picked up a beer, washing down the deep-fried heart attack he was eating. Against his better judgment, Sam followed Dean's advice and avoiding looking to closely at his food as he tried a bite.

He chewed slowly, aware of Dean's tense glare on his face.

"That's actually not that bad…"

"See, what I tell you?" Dean said triumphantly, "I always know best."

Sam snorted, "Yeah, whatever, just pass me a beer." Dean tossed him a can and then leaned back happily against the Impala's windshield.

"Beer in a can? That's bad even for us."

Dean shrugged, "You want to try driving around for an hour and a half trying to find an actual liquor store next time?"

"An hour and a half?" Sam said through a full mouth, "Wait, where exactly are we?"

"A small town without a decent liquor store. South of Maine, North of Florida. Definitely in that general region."

"Glad to know you've been paying attention to the roads—God, did you actually find a liquor store or did some dude in a back alley with a trench coat sell you this?"

"Don't be a baby," Dean said, closing his eyes, "It probably won't kill you are anything."

"Wouldn't that be something. Still being alive after the apocalypse only to be found dead in the middle of nowhere on top of the Impala, next to a bunch of gas station 'burgers'."

"Hey, if I got to pick the way I die the next time around…" Dean grinned wide, his eyes still closed, "I can figure worse ways."

Sam's found himself laughing despite himself. "Yeah, I think we've been though most of those worse ways," he said. With that he, crushed the sticky aluminum foil into a ball and tossed into through the open window into the Impala.

"Hey!" Dean sat up, eyes wide.

"I'm not gonna _litter_, Dean."

"To hell with the environment! Don't you mess with my baby!" His tone was angry but Dean was still smiling at him and Sam couldn't stop the way his own face mirrored his brothers stupid expression. "Seriously Sam, respect your elders—ah crap."

Sam flinched as a raindrop landed on his face.

"Way to go Dean, you pissed off nature."

"Shut up," Dean mumbled. He was turned away from Sam, but he could still see that he was still smiling. Neither of them moved as the rain starting to pour heavier.

"You think we should move?" Sam asked, staring up at the grey clouds filling the sky.

"Probably." Dean cracked open his second beer. Sam sighed and leaned back on the windshield.

It was cold as all hell, and they were lost, Sam noticed silently. He had probably caught a ring worm or some other crazy thing from the burger in his stomach and for some odd reason Sam couldn't bring himself to give a damn. The night was quiet, they were both alive, nothing was trying to kill them, and for the first time in God knows how long, Dean seemed happy.

Truly happy.

Happier than Sam had seen in years.

Sam sat up suddenly, burying his face in his hands with a loud groan.

"Burger acting up already? That's not supposed to happen until morning-"

"You're Dean has gotten better," Sam said flatly.

From his side, where Dean had just been sitting, Sam heard a soft laugh that was not his brothers, "Glad you think so. I've been practicing for you after all."

Sam tried to breathe into the knot that had formed in chest but it didn't work. That lingering feeling of happiness and content was cruelly refusing to fade. Sam swore under breathe at his own stupidity. He hadn't remembered driving out to the middle of nowhere with Dean, he hadn't even thought about how he wasn't in Hell.

After all this time he'd begun to think that cutting him apart piece by piece was the worst way the Devil could hurt him.

"It was probably the happiness that tipped you off right?" Lucifer said softly, "Damn, that level of self-hating, narcissism is just too hard to fake."

Sam pulled his hands away from his face and turned to Lucifer, "Were you getting tired of torturing me?"

Lucifer smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. Sam didn't bother pulling away. If he didn't know any better Sam could almost let himself believe that the soft weight of the hand on him was actually there to comfort him. "Of course not Sam. I'm just trying to keep things in the cage interesting."

Sam searched his face—or rather the face Lucifer wore—trying to understand what Lucifer was thinking, but as usual it was a waste. He wasn't angry, didn't look like he harbored any bitterness or hatred towards him. His expression was as peaceful and happy now as he looked when he tortured Sam, and as honest as when he'd tried to convince him to be his vessel.

Sam closed his eyes as he felt the place around him, the wet trees, the night sky, the Impala, begin to fade. He kept them closed. He knew what he'd see when he opened them again and wanted to burn the memory of the last few minutes into his brain, hoping to cling to it as long as possible.

The hand on Sam's shoulder tightened slowly.

Sam thought of the Impala and that wide open night sky that's just been above him.

"You know Sam, as beautiful as a constant flood of hopelessness and despair can be, those things only hurt your body. They can't crush and tear the soul apart into pretty little bites sized pieces and then burn them. It's one of the main reasons I can't help finding demons so boring. They lack creativity."

_The feeling of cold rain on his face. Not the growing fire he felt growing all around him, but the cool breeze._

"Even more beautiful and ugly and painful than despair is the tiny flick of false hope that precedes it, and that perfect moment when its snuffed out."

_The sound of that familiar laughter and the stupid smile that had come with it._

"But why am I telling you this? You'll get the idea soon enough."

_Even if it had all been a lie._

"Now lets go home Sammy."


End file.
